


Through Alex's Eyes

by mansikka



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Dinner, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Michael just wanted a normal dinner so Max, Isobel and Alex could meet. He absolutely was not expectingthis.





	Through Alex's Eyes

"...and Michael here just thought it would be a _great_ idea to get wasted and punch the guy. Right out in the street. Didn't even have the sense to be discreet about it."

Michael has already tuned Max out, focusing his full attention on the grip of Alex's hand around his thigh beneath the table. Which is getting tighter; he laces his fingers through to stop him squeezing, changing that focus to the gentle swirl of his thumb.

Sometimes, when his hand is aching, Alex will take it between his own and carefully caress every bump and scrape there. His kisses over his scars are guilt-laced for being the source of his injury even though they both know it's not his fault. But no one but Alex has ever held him this gently, taken the time to pay attention to his mangled hand. So Michael anchors himself with Alex's careful caresses; even if right now he wishes he might loosen his grip.

"Remember when the three of us were in that barn," Isobel says then, and really, if the ground truly could open up and swallow him, Michael would ask it to now. Isobel's voice is filled with hilarity, and Max is already smirking. Michael knows this story as well, so pretends he doesn't hear a word.

In fairness, all of this is _his_ fault. Not for the string of his indiscretions and failures over the years, or for how many times he's embarrassed his siblings to the point of every word they ever say about him being a harsh one, or full of ridicule. It's because _he_ arranged this dinner, he was the one who'd set the whole thing up. He's also the one that has been toying with his pasta dish for about twenty minutes now and barely managed a bite.

He and Alex are _something_ , something good; the best thing Michael's had in his whole life. It wasn't an easy road to get here, and hell knows there were some months when Alex struggled with the idea of people knowing they were together at all. Michael understands; if even his siblings here can list his every fault chronologically or alphabetically, why would Alex want to be seen with him in town?

But he'd hoped for tonight to do something _normal_ , to have a dinner with his family and his _boyfriend_ , the three most important people to Michael in his life. One dinner with civil conversation and the start of getting to know one another better, so Max doesn't keep backing awkwardly away from Alex when they run into one another, and Isobel doesn't _grin_ at Alex like some kind of python ready to strike.

Isobel's latest tale is still going, with Max joining in and laughing at all the good parts. Michael smiles, pleading for the evening to be over. To go back to Alex's and fall asleep in his arms. Or maybe go back to his Airstream alone so all the mortification he's drowning in can take over. So he can have his sleepless night rehashing every mistake he's ever made in his life and by the morning get his misplaced anger at Isobel and Max out of his system.

"Anyway. Alex," Isobel says, raising her glass to him, "at least you're aware of what you're getting yourself into."

With _him_ , Michael finishes for her even though it's not needed, even if Alex can't have failed to know what she's implied. Michael wishes that Noah hadn't been working, that he was here to maybe take some of the heat off the storytelling. Or on second thoughts, maybe not; Michael's heart pounds for the thought of hearing himself through Noah's eyes as well.

"Yeah," Max agrees, laughing; Michael wishes there was at least a touch of affection there. "Yeah, it'll be good to have someone else to call when I have to turf him out of a drunk tank and find a way to get him home."

"Or someone at least to pick up his _truck_ from wherever he abandoned it," Isobel adds, leaning in to Max's side.

"Yeah. Remember when—"

"See that waitress over there?"

Max stops speaking for Alex's interruption, all of their eyes turning to the woman stood about three tables over, waiting to take an order. Alex tilts his chin towards her then turns back to the table, taking a sip of his beer. "Maybe… three months ago? She was just leaving work. Michael and I were out for a beer across the street. And when we looked over for this… commotion we heard, this guy had come out of nowhere and grabbed her purse."

"What? I—"

"And," Alex says, ignoring Max's attempt at interrupting, "he pushed her to the ground. I'm pretty sure we could hear her head hit the sidewalk."

Michael agrees with that. He can still hear the dull thud and feels sick for it.

"Anyway. Michael here goes charging across the road, like, giving me a heart attack for dodging oncoming traffic," Alex adds, turning to _really_ smile at him as he squeezes his hand. "And the guy doesn't even get three blocks before Michael's tackling him to the ground. He got the purse back, the guy tries to punch him in the face but misses, and just… runs off. And when she insisted she didn't need the hospital, we drove her home. Michael walked her to her door, made sure she was safe."

"You should have called that in," Max says immediately. Michael winces for how hard Alex's hand tightens. Alex sees him wince and raises their hands, kissing Michael's in apology not even flinching for the people sat across the table from them. Michael is scared to look at their faces for their reaction.

"And last week we were driving back—"

"From your _weekend away_ ," Isobel says, full of teasing. Alex doesn't even blink.

"Yes. We passed this old guy with his tire all… well. I don't think there was any tire left."

"Guy was limping it back. Basically on its rims," Michael agrees, even if he's confused about where Alex is going with this story.

"So we stop, pull up behind him. Michael jumps out and changes it for him right there in the road. Guy tries to give him cash—and what was that stuff?"

"A crate of energy drink," Michael tells him. "Think he was on his way back from some wholesalers, or something."

"Michael just waves him off, jumps back in, and we keep driving."

Michael risks a look at Max, having no idea what to make of his expression. He looks confused, and stunned, like maybe he's hearing stories about a different person.

"Well," Isobel says, sounding equally confused, "I guess he did always have a misplaced hero complex."

She doesn't mean to be cruel, Michael knows she doesn't, this is just how people _speak_ about him. He just wishes it didn't _hurt_.

"Maybe that's because he _is_ a hero."

Alex's words knot Michael's stomach, though perhaps not as much as the scowl he sees forming on his face. And when Michael looks down he sees Alex too is having difficulty eating. Is the food bad? Or is he not enjoying hearing all these awful things about _him_?

"Well," Max says after an awkward pause, clearly having no idea what he wants to say. "I mean. His heart can be in the right place."

"Always," Alex agrees, glaring at Max. "Michael would give anything to anyone no matter the cost to himself." Which is a bit _much_ , Michael thinks, but Alex's voice is filled with the conviction of his words.

"S—sure—"

"Honestly? All these things I hear about Michael from _you_ , and, well. Just about everyone in this town. Anyone would think Michael wasn't the smart, kind, incredible guy that I know he is. That I've _seen_ him be. Like he's some kind of… town joke. Instead of the guy who rescues everyone's asses, and doesn't take any credit for any of it—doesn't even _want_ credit."

Okay _now_ the ground can swallow him. Definitely. Absolutely. Michael can't ever live up to being described like _that_.

"Truly," Alex continues, turning to smile at him again with a look that's so full of affection, and _pride_ for him Michael can't look away from it. "I am just so… _proud_. Of everything he is. And does. And just… everything."

There is a strange buzzing in his ears, and Michael can feel himself smile but doesn't think Alex can mean a word of it. Not about _him._ Even when he smiles at him so full of _love_ that Michael could believe anything he told him. Anything at all.

"I'm sure you are too," Alex adds, and now Michael's stomach really is knotting, because the easiness of his expression morphs into something furious, indignant, and outraged, glaring at Max and Isobel so hard across the table that they both look alarmed and physically sit back in their chairs. Michael has no idea what is going on, why he's earned such _defending_ , but if this is what it is to be cared for, well. It feels pretty good.

Max swallows with difficulty, shaking his head as though dazed but nods, clearing his throat before answering. "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Family is important," Alex insists, still glowering. "Family means everything. At least, it _should_."

"You should tell that to your _dad_ ," Michael says finally finding some words to say, leaning into Alex's side. Alex keeps smiling back at him, sagging against his shoulder as though he's _relieved_ for his touch.

"I meant _real_ family."

Alex's eyes have always been something, always stopped Michael in his tracks. He's lost himself to staring back into them for hours over their time together, so he knows when he's trying to tell him something without saying a thing out loud. _Yeah_ , Michael thinks, _you're my family too_. Alex seems to know, because he squeezes his hand again, jabbing his thumb in his thigh.

"Michael's always been there, for all of us. Both of us," Isobel says, and when Michael looks even her smile for him is fond. Max is still curious, casting furtive glances between him and Alex like he still doesn't know what's happening. But at least he's quit with his _stories_. Michael has several things in mind to thank Alex for that later.

"We should do something. At mine."

Max's outburst has left a frown on his own face like even he wasn't expecting himself to talk. Michael waits for him to continue, even Isobel nudging him in the side to keep talking. "Like a barbecue, or something. Have a grill night. You in, Alex? You both. Together. Obviously."

"That sounds good," Alex says, his expression softening a touch, even if he is still staring. If he's honest, Michael is _thrilled_ that Alex is making Max squirm. And as he sits there watching both Max and Isobel for once look out of their depth, Michael thinks he _likes_ the way he looks through Alex's eyes.

"Only if Michael cooks."

All eyes turn to Isobel, who gives a bright smile and another elbow in Max's side. "And Noah. Noah and Michael can cook. If none of us want food poisoning."

"That was _one time_ —"

"Max. Just face it. You seriously shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a grill. Ever."

Alex squeezes Michael's thigh as Max and Isobel bicker, leaning more into his side. Michael wants to kiss him, badly, but also wants to get him alone. So he settles for a nuzzle to his shoulder, and drops his hand to throw an arm around Alex's shoulders. Alex shuffles closer still, helping himself to a forkful of the pasta on Michael's plate with a smile.


End file.
